


And a Million Miles

by toastedtea



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky has a cat, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Fix-It, Heartbreak, I'm on both Team Steve as well as Team Bucky, Loneliness, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Pining, Post-Endgame, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson has his own life and thoughts outside of Steve and Bucky, Social Media, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve comes back to be with bucky, They're both flawed human beings and they both deserve love and care
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-07-20 12:07:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19991917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastedtea/pseuds/toastedtea
Summary: Four years ago, Steve Rogers made the biggest mistake of his life. Now he's back and trying his best to rebuild the life he had abandoned. Unfortunately for him, Bucky is not eager to forgive.ORPost Endgame fix-it in which Steve comes back three years too late and has to deal with the consequences of his actions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am violently opposed to the ending of Endgame. I believe it was done out of homophobia and nothing else. But this is not an anti Steve story. I love Steve with all my heart. If you're looking for an anti Steve Story, this is NOT it. Steve makes mistakes just like any human would. He deals with a lot of guilt in this one because that's who he is. He canonically has a lot of guilt. Steve Rogers is canonically a giant ball of suppressed emotions and righteous anger. Bucky doesn't accept him easily because he has been hurt, and that's what people do when they're hurt. I'm writing them as people. There will be healing for both of them. There is definitely going to be a happy ending to this fic, but it will be a difficult journey.
> 
> I'll change the ratings and add tags and character as we go.
> 
> This work is not beta'd. ~~I am looking for a beta though please help~~

“I don’t think I can do this, Sam,” he says into the phone. He’s been standing across the street from a cozy five-story building for the past ten minutes. An old woman walking past shoots him an odd look, and he tugs at his cap. It's a pointless attempt to make himself less conspicuous. He's spent the last 4 years hiding his identity, but somehow this is more unnerving.

"Come on, Steve," says Sam. "You've saved the world how many times now? This is nothing compared to the shit you've done, man. You got this." He sounds a bit exasperated, and Steve hates himself for bothering him. Steve's a grown man. He should be able to do this on his own. He's sure Sam doesn't want to listen to him whine. He's got more than enough on his plate without Steve adding to it. He's about to thank Sam and hang up when Sam speaks again. "I mean, it's _Bucky_ , man. You don't need to worry."

He's right in a way. But then again, Sam doesn't know the whole story. He doesn't have the betrayed look on Bucky's face burned into his mind. That face has haunted Steve for the past 4 years. That face is the reason he's apprehensive of stepping foot inside the building.

"You're right," he says anyway. He doesn't want to bother Sam any more than he already has. These days the rift that has grown between them makes itself known often. Sam stuck around, though. It was more than Steve had hoped for. And for what it's worth, Sam also wants to fix their friendship.

He's left with his own thoughts once he hangs up. He has two options right now. He can either go inside and try to fix this own mess, or he can leave now and run away like a coward. He walks into the building and is grateful for the lack of a doorman. He punches in the key code that Sam had reluctantly given him over the phone. The door clicks open and Steve walks inside.

He's even more uncomfortable now that he's inside the building. Some sick part of him had almost wanted the code to not work. He does want to see Bucky. Fuck, he wants that so much. Bucky's absence has been a constant ache. But he's apprehensive about his reaction. He doesn't know if Bucky would even want him in his life anymore. And what would he do then, if Bucky tells him to leave and never show his face again?

The elevator dings and Steve’s stomach drops. His legs are noodles, his skin feels clammy. He’s breathing heavy. There's a wild moment of panic when Steve imagines Bucky walking out of the elevator and seeing him there. But then the door opens and the dark haired woman walks past him without sparing him a glance. Steve breaths out a sigh. He decides against taking the elevator and heads for the stairs instead. He takes his sweet time getting to the fourth floor. It takes a few moments, but then he gathers enough courage to knock on the door to 4C. 

_Steve's half-dressed when he opens the door. Bucky stands slouched with messy hair and red rimmed eyes. He invites Bucky in. Bucky sits on the bed and watches him. He says nothing. He's no longer trying to change Steve's mind. Defeated. Steve aches. He's gonna miss Bucky, too. But he has to do this. There are no words to make this easier. There's less than 15 minutes until Steve has to go and put the stones back._

There's no sound from inside the apartment. For a wild moment, he thinks that Bucky has seen him through the peephole and is standing on the other side of the door, waiting for Steve to leave. Some rational part of him tells him that Bucky's not home, but that doesn't stop him from knocking.

He knocks and rings the doorbell a few more times. There’s no answer. The door to the apartment across the hallway opens up. A small dark-haired man (boy, if Steve's going to be honest) in a too big t-shirt pokes his head out and scowls at Steve. "Will you stop it?! I'm calling the cops if you don't," he snaps.

He almost snaps something back on instinct. But he knows that's not gonna help anyone. So he takes a breath and points at Bucky's door.

"My friend lives from across the hall," he knows how desperate he sounds. But he can’t bring himself to care. Doesn’t bother composing himself. "I--I need to see him."

The boy blinks at Steve for a few seconds, and then recognition flashes across his face. Steve slouches on instinct, tries to hide his face under his cap. But the boy doesn’t seem to care who Steve is. Steve's words seem to sink in a second too late. The boy looks past Steve at the door to Bucky's apartment and then looks back at Steve.

"He's gone." 

"Wha--" Steve starts, panicked.

"I mean, he's not here. He'll be back in a couple of days. Gone to visit family or something. Asked me to cat-sit."

"Cat-sit?" Steve asks, dumbfounded.

"He said he'll be back by Friday," the guy adds, completely ignoring Steve’s question.

Friday. Great. He's going to have to go through this whole process again on Friday. This is his punishment for what he did. But he can do this. Friday is not that far away. He can do this for five more days.

“Uh--” the guy says, waiting for Steve to say something. Steve shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

"Thanks, uh--?"

He never asked him his name.

"Carl," the boy says.

He feels defeated as he walks out of the lobby and onto the street a couple minutes later. Friday. He can do this. He _can_ do this. It’s only five days.

_____

"It was that stupid machine, you know," Sam says between bites. The harsh lights of the diner illuminate his face, making all the sharp angles stand out. Steve could paint him like this. But he hasn't even sketched in a long time. The last thing he'd sketched were Bucky's hands, one flesh and one metal. It was in Wakanda. Sam's talking about the mission he and Banner went on six months ago. Six months ago when Steve was still trying to get the machine to work. He only had one chance, and he could not fuck it up. He fucked it up anyway. Ended up coming back 3 years too late. Now he's not sure if Bucky will ever let him back in his life. Sam's still talking about the mission. He mentally berates himself for zoning out and focuses on what Sam is saying.

"First time I've seen Banner so angry in a long time," Sam says. Steve has no idea what Sam's saying, and he scrambles to piece together whatever information he has. "I mean, I get it, though. Even I was more pissed off than I've ever been."

"Why?" Steve asks, like the idiot that he is. Something flickers on Sam's face for a moment. Then it’s gone, smoothed out. Sam sighs.

"Did you see Bucky?" he asks. He looks tired. Steve hates himself, hates that he's so focused on Bucky that he can't even be a decent friend.

"No, I--he's out of town. _Was_ out of town. He's supposed to be back today."

Sam doesn't say anything. Doesn't ask why Steve hasn't gone to see him. Doesn't ask why Steve asked Sam to help him pick out an apartment instead of going to see Bucky. There's a long awkward pause, heavy with the weight of unsaid things. Steve feels sick and exposed. He's sure Sam can see right through him.

"You were saying something about the machine," he says when it gets unbearable.

Sam regards him for a few moments. He looks like he's about to say something, but then he doesn't. Instead, he continues telling Steve the story about the mission.

Tomorrow, Steve decides later, opening the door to his airbnb and slipping inside. Tomorrow, he'll definitely go to see Bucky.

_____

He wakes up at 5 am to incessant ringing. He groans and blinks at the caller ID. He'd slept late last night and he'd been asleep for less than a couple of hours when his phone started ringing.

"What?" he croaks.

It's Sam. They need help. Carol and Thor are both unreachable, and they need someone more powerful on their team. Steve hasn't worn his old suit in a long time. It feels weird. It doesn't feel like himself.

"Steve!" Banner happily greets him as soon as he steps onto the quinjet. They're all so kind to him even after he abandoned them for years while he tried to find happiness in the wrong place.

"We missed you, Captain. Uh, Steve? Uh. Rogers. Sir?" Peter blabbers, saved by Sam explaining their mission. Sam's taken good care of the team. He's a good leader.

In the end, it turns out to be a two day affair. Steve is knackered by the end of it. There were minimal casualties. And the explosion that ended the fight was contained within a manageable radius. All hope of the news remaining contained is lost when Steve checks his phone on the flight back. Unless Bucky lives under a rock, he'll find out that Steve is back. Dammit.

He'll definitely go tomorrow.

_____

He walks to Bucky’s apartment the next morning. It takes him a good half an hour to walk to the place. His insides are in a knot and he’s sweating more than he does during workouts. His hands, which he’s shoved in the pockets of his jacket, are clammy. He hates this feeling. He hates the uncertainty. One of the reasons he’s avoided Bucky for this long is because he didn’t want to get rejected by him. Steve is almost sure that Bucky won’t allow him back into his life. Not after what he did. 

He spots the doorman through the glass panel and exhales in frustration. He doesn’t want to do this right now. He just wants to go inside and go up to the fourth floor and find out whether Bucky will accept him back.

“Steve?” someone says just as he’s about to open the door. He would recognize that voice anywhere. No amount of time or distance could ever make him forget. 

He turns around so quickly that he’s reeling from it. It’s like he’s been transported back in the 30s. His hair is cut short. The muscled frame that Steve remembers is much more lean now. He’s holding a giant paper bag with his metal arm. There’s not a hint of stubble on his face. His eyes are just are striking as he remembers. Steve’s breath catches. He’s beautiful. Steve wants to put his arms around him and just hold him. 

Steve has missed him so much.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says and closes the distance in an instant. He’s about to pull Bucky into a hug when Bucky steps back. It’s like a quick punch in the gut. For a moment, Steve feels so lost that he can’t breath. Steve lets his arms fall back to his side.

_Steve tried to pull back, but Bucky wouldn't let him. He held him tight, his face pressed against Steve's chest._

_"Please," Bucky whispered. It was one last attempt to stop him from going, but Steve couldn't. He had to go and live the life he'd dreamt of. Shouldn’t Bucky be happy for him? Steve was tired of war. He pulled back and looked into watery eyes._

_"It's gonna be okay, Buck."_

Bucky looks pained and uncomfortable. He’s not meeting Steve’s eyes. He doesn’t say anything. Silence stretches on as Steve tries to gather his thoughts enough to say something, to apologise.

“I’m back,” Steve says finally, stupidly. “I wanted to talk to you. I--I missed you.” 

Bucky’s head snaps up and he looks into Steve’s eyes, an angry frown creasing his forehead. He looks like he’s about to say something scathing, but then he stops himself. All traces of emotion are smoothed out as Bucky composes himself. 

“I can’t,” Bucky says without even a hint of emotion. He’s shutting Steve out. There was once a time when Steve could read Bucky easily even through all the walls he put up.

“Buck, please, I--”

“I just--Steve, you can’t just--” Bucky cuts him off. There’s concealed anger in those words. He takes a deep breath. He ducks his head, the fingers of his flesh hand pinching the bridge of his nose. After a moment, he continues. “I can’t right now,” he says.

Steve’s about to say something when Bucky continues.

“I need time to process. I saw you fighting in your uniform yesterday. I didn’t even know you’re back! I just--I need time.”

“I can come next week. Next month. Whenever. I can give you time, Buck. Just tell me when,” he’s scrambling to get something, anything from Bucky. 

“I don’t know. I’ll call you, alright?” Bucky says after a moment’s contemplation. There’s an air of finality to it. He knows what this means. Steve’s world tilts. He feels like he’s falling, like the ground beneath his feet is being pulled from under him. Bile rises to his throat. He’s breathing picks up. This can’t be happening. 

Bucky is shutting him out. He’s rejecting Steve for the first time in Steve’s life. Even when he was under HYDRA’s control, Bucky broke through his programming because of Steve. Now he’s rejecting him, walking away from Steve and into the building. This can’t be real. He’s been so used to Bucky’s easy acceptance of him all his life that this doesn’t feel right. Even though he was dreading this, he never thought it would actually happen.

He watches Bucky punch in the code and enter the building. Watches him until he disappears inside the elevator. Bucky doesn’t turn around to see him once.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to deal with Bucky's rejection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me so long to upload this chapter because I've got things planned out for the rest of the fic, but I didn't have this chapter plotted out. Also because I got a few discouraging comments on the first chapter.
> 
> I was surprised and a bit taken aback when people commented telling me that this fic is antiSteve, that I'm bashing Steve's character for no reason and that I should tag it as such. I went back and read it a few times trying to find the part where I'm Steve bashing or the characters are bashing Steve just for the sake of it, and I honestly couldn't find a single instance. When people make mistakes and hurt the people who love them, those people get angry, they express their anger. That is the thing I'm trying to portray here. When you're hurt, you lash out. 
> 
> Another thing that needs to be pointed out is that while it's written in third person, this is still Steve's POV. The narrator isn't stating facts as they are. Steve perceives certain things to be one way because he has his own biases and regrets and a whole lot of guilt.
> 
> Steve is my favourite character by a large margin. No one comes close. And if you think that the exploration of the consequences of his actions, and his own guilt and loneliness is bashing him, or unnecessarily hating on him, I don't know what to tell you. What I will definitely NOT do is tag this fic as anything that it's not.

Seconds melt into minutes, minutes into hours. Later, when Steve looks back at his week, he can't separate the days from each other. It doesn't feel real. He has a short text conversation with Sam when he gets back home on Monday. Steve knows that Sam pities him. He feels sick to the stomach. He doesn't reply, switches his phone off.

He takes a nap late in the afternoon. When he wakes, artificial light streams in through the blinds. His room is dark. He checks his phone for time, has to wait for it to power up. It's past 9 pm. Two messages from Sam.

 **Sam: He'll come around, man. He** **just** **needs time.**

**Sam: Hang in there.**

There's no spark of hope at the reassurance. Sam doesn't know. Sam didn't see Bucky's face. Bile rises in his throat. His eyes well up. Steve blinks the tears away. He's not going to think about that right now. He's going to focus on the present, take it one day at a time.

Steve thinks about replying to Sam. Saying something that will get Sam to think that Steve feels better. But he can't think of anything that doesn't make him feel pathetic.

He locks his phone.

His stomach growls. Steve thinks about cooking something. He thinks about going into the kitchen and trying to put a meal together.

He orders takeout.

He doesn't remember falling asleep, but he wakes up to sunlight streaming in through the giant windows. The sun hits Steve's back in all the wrong places. The heat is inescapable, his skin burns. He curses himself for forgetting to shut the blinds last night. The bed is big, but there's no place where the sun won't hit.

After a few minutes of tossing and turning, he gets off the bed and closes the curtains. Better. A small amount of sunlight filters in. Steve stares at the dust particles in the air.

His phone sits at the bedside table. Untouched since last night. He goes to the kitchen, grabs a large glass of water. Gulps in down in one go.

He's got no new messages. His phone is at 3%. He almost doesn't charge it. But there's a small voice in the back of his mind that says what if Bucky calls? So he puts his phone on charge.

He makes himself a sandwich. The bread is stale and starts falling apart as Steve butters it up. He puts all the available vegetables in the sandwich and scarfs it down. There's too much lettuce. He makes himself tea, forgets about it until it gets cold, and then gulps it down in one go.

It feels like its been years since Bucky left him standing outside his apartment building. Steve can't quite believe that it happened just yesterday. There's a part of him that raises its head every now and then to try to comfort him. It tells him that Bucky didn't actually say no, that he might still give Steve a chance. This is the part that wants to believe Sam. A much larger part of him tells him that it's over.

**Sam: Everything alright?**

It's been two days. Steve thinks about not replying. But he's trying to be a better friend.

_I'm alright._

Sam types for a long time.

**Sam: I know you're not, Steve.**

**Sam: It's okay to be not alright.**

_Thanks, Sam._

Sam doesn't say anything after that. And Steve leaves it at that.

He spends hours in bed. Sometimes, he stares at his ceiling, wonders how his life got to this point. Sometimes, he browses the internet. There's a lot of things that he's missed in the past few years. It's almost like back when they thawed him out.

He has a lot to catch up on.

There's a whole lot of movies about it. There's books and blog articles and youtube videos about the five years. There's so much stuff about people losing their loved ones. There's even more stuff about people who came back, who are trying to rebuild their lives. There's documentaries about the chaos that followed the return of these people. Steve wasn't here for any of that. He could have helped. He should have been here to help.

He watches a documentary about the whole affair. People came back to find that they've lost their jobs, their homes, their families. It was a mess. As much pain as it had caused, the world had gotten used to the new population. They had to make room for these people again. It wasn't easy. They're still recovering.

He watches videos of people being reunited. He almost manages not to cry. There's a video of an elderly man sitting by himself on a park bench, his head buried in a book. It's shot on a phone and far enough away that the man doesn't notice it. Steve watches as an elderly woman smiles at the camera and makes her way to the man. He doesn't notice her until she's blocking his sun. He looks up, freezes for a few seconds. Then they're both crying and they're both clinging on to each other. He stops the video then. He can't watch any more. He wipes his tears, distracts himself with something else.

Steve googles Bucky's name once. There's an article about his past, about the short trial, but most people seem to have moved past it. Google images show pap shots of Bucky walking around and being a normal person. There's a twitter handle which hasn't been updated in months. There's a public instagram account filled with pictures of cats and food. Sam and Thor make frequent appearance in his pictures.

Steve lingers on a photo from a few months ago. Bucky is by a window. He's got his hands held close to his chest, and from under his hands. There's a tiny black head peeking out and straining up. He himself in looking down and smiling at the kitten. His skin glows golden in the late afternoon sunlight. Steve stares at the photo for a long time. Someone else must have taken it. It's such a soft, beautiful moment. Bucky isn't aware that someone's taking a picture of him. Someone must have looked at him in that moment and thought: this, this is something that needs to be immortalized.

"Anyone who says that cats aren't affectionate is a lying asshole." The caption reads.

He scrolls some more. 

Wednesday morning, he texts Sam.

He rediscovers his love for art. It's the middle of the night when there's a video of a speed painting in his recommended section. He clicks on it instinctively. He loses count of the amount of videos he watches.

The next day, he buys a sketchbook. He smiles at the cashier, buys breakfast on his way back, leaves a good tip in the tip jar. He feels energized for the first time in forever. He hasn't felt this way about art for years.

He's thrumming with energy by the time he reaches his airbnb. He has an apartment viewing in the afternoon. He has just over an hour to sketch something. The moment he opens the sketchbook and looks at the first page, his mind goes blank. He doesn't know what to draw. He tries doodling around a bit, trying to find inspiration. That doesn't work.

Before, whenever he was out of inspiration, he'd sketch Bucky. Bucky's face, his hands, his eyes, his lips. He had sketchbooks filled with Bucky.

He swallows the lump in his throat. He closes the sketchbook.

He's watching youtube videos one night when his phone vibrates in his hand. It's pathetic how quick his eyes dart up to check his notifications, how he hopes that its someone, _anyone_ , texting him. He doesn't care if it's Bucky or Sam. He just hopes it's _someone._ It's a notification from a news app. His heart sinks. It's stupid, this longing for human contact. He wonders how his life came to this. How a single notification sends him on a brief euphoric trip before crashing hard when he realizes it's not a person at all.

He thought he was lonely before; when he was with Sam and wasn't sure what to say, when Bruce hugged him and Steve felt nothing. He never anticipated this kind of loneliness. The kind that makes you long for any human contact at all, that fills you up with dread about spending the rest of your life like this. The kind that fills you with the knowledge that there is something wrong with your life, but you don't know how to fix it.

Steve checks his conversation with Sam. He still hasn't texted back. It's been three days. Steve goes over the conversation again and again. Was he rude? Did he fuck up somehow and lost the one person who'd stuck around even after everything?

He's crying. He doesn't wipe his face. He lets the tears fall. Everything hurts. He's restless. His skin aches. He runs his hands over his arms, hugs himself, tries to soothe his skin.

When he's all cried out, he has a massive headache. He can't think with the pain. He knows he should drink some water , but he can't bring himself to get out of bed.

He falls asleep like that.

_____

On Saturday, he grabs his sketchbook and walks to the coffee shop just around the corner. He'd discovered the place when he'd first moved to New York after SHIELD fell. Steve loves it. It's cozy and a bit cramped, but there's lots of seating. Steve's never had to worry about finding a place. It's furnished with a mix of modern and antique furniture, and the food there is delicious. It never fails to make improve Steve's mood.

He walks in, orders a coffee and a croissant, and then sits at a table in the corner. Out of the way. The place is packed. Steve fills a couple pages in his sketchbook with rough sketches in no time.

There's a woman with beautiful hair hunched over her laptop, earphones plugged in her ears. He's focusing on getting the shine on her hair right when someone drops down on the chair opposite him. Steve's head snaps up.

"You should check your phone every once in a while, you know," Sam says. He looks tired, like he hasn't slept well in a while.

"Hey, Sam," Steve says, pulls his phone out of his pocket. It's dead. He realises he hasn't charged it since yesterday. He looks up at Sam and gives him a sheepish look.

Sam rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. Warmth settles in Steve's belly. He hasn't fucked this up.

"Where have you been?" he asks, making sure to keep his tone neutral.

Sam sinks lower into his seat.

"Europe."

"Is that where you were this whole time?"

"Felt like three years instead of three days, man."

"Did you sleep?" Steve asks, because Sam looks like he's about to drop off at any moment. He feels stupid about his breakdown last night. He'd blown it out of proportion. He feels his cheeks heat.

"Yeah. Lots. Doesn't seem to have done a thing." Sam's eyes dart down to Steve's cheeks, but he doesn't say anything.

They sit there for a while.

"Wait, how'd you find me?" he asks, because his phone had been off all day and he could have been anywhere.

"Magic," Sam says, matter-of-fact.

Steve isn't sure whether Sam is being sarcastic or if he's actually talking about Wanda or Strange. Steve doesn't ask.

"You have plans for dinner?" Sam asks.

"No."

"Me neither."

_____

Sam's apartment is big but cozy. There's something warm about the place. There's a lot of pictures; of his family, of him and his friends. There's a picture of Sam and Bucky at the beach. Bucky's wearing a ridiculously large hat, his shoulders sunburned. But he's smiling. They're both smiling.

"Did you find an apartment?" Sam asks.

"Not sure yet. There's one I like, but I'm keeping my options open."

"How long are you gonna stay at that airbnb?"

"I booked for a month."

"You know, you could always crash here until you find a place?"

"I know. Thanks, Sam." Steve isn't planning on imposing, of course. But it's kind of Sam to offer. It makes Steve feel optimistic about this whole mess.

They end up watching football and drinking beer. Sam orders two large pizzas and they gulf it all down. Of course, the beer doesn't do anything for Steve, but he drinks it anyway.

Things are not as bad as he thought. They talk and make jokes and laugh and Steve doesn't feel the tension he felt just days ago. He doesn't feel like Sam's only putting up with him because he's too nice to tell Steve to fuck off. Sure, they're not as comfortable around each other as they used to be, and Steve knows that that's gonna take a while; but it's not as bad as Steve had assumed. It's salvageable. At least it is with Sam.

They talk about a lot of things. They talk about sports, about the mission Sam was on, about the things Sam got up to when Steve wasn't around. They talk about their friends. Wanda has been training hard. Scott is doing his own thing. Peter is an on and off Avenger, but mostly sticks to Queens. Thor visits every now and then.

Sam doesn't talk about Bucky. He knows Sam's doing it out of kindness, to spare him the pain, but Steve almost wishes he would talk about him. Steve has so many questions. He tries to ask about Bucky a couple of times, but the words get stuck in his throat. He'll get there one day.

After dinner, Sam offers him the bed in his guest bedroom, but Steve refuses. It's not that late and getting some fresh air would benefit Steve.

When he enters his place, he's feeling good. Definitely much better than the mess he was last night. He plugs his phone in and heads for the shower. He'd been out all day, and he's starting to feel gross.

It's almost 2 when he gets into bed. He's tired. but he decides to check his phone just for a minute before sleeping. The lock screen says that he has two messages. Probably from Sam, asking if he's home yet.

He unlocks his phone. Freezes.

He's shaking. He's not sure what to expect. He doesn't want to open it. A thousand thoughts run through his head. He's sweating. He taps on the notification.

**Buck: I'm sorry I was rude when you came to see me.**

**Buck: We can talk if you still want to.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [tumblr](www.thetoastedtea.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry about skipping a week of update! This chapter is longer than the previous ones though, so there's that. i wrote and scrapped this chapter twice before settling on this. every time I get to writing on this fic, my mind gives me more ideas about the later half of the fic, and i get a block when it comes to the current part. I thought about skipping this sort of transitionary period but I didn't want to do that. 
> 
> i also want to talk about all the amazing people who commented on my last chapter. you guys are the best! i'm hoping to update weekly from now on.

" _You gonna marry her?" Bucky mumbles, his shoulder pressed against Steve's._

 _The Howlies_ _are huddled_ _together on the forest floor. It's too cold to get a good night's sleep, and they're too far into enemy territory to light a fire. Bucky's question registers a bit late, and Steve turns his head to blink at Bucky, questioning._

 _Bucky looks_ _pointedly_ _at Steve's hand where Steve is thumbing the compass. Blood rushes to his face._

_They sit in silence for a few minutes._

_"_ _Just_ _don't forget me, pal," Bucky says, his voice rough. It's such a weird thing for Bucky to say. Steve could never forget Bucky. Bucky has been Steve's everything for the longest time. There's no future in which Bucky is not a part of Steve's life._

_Steve's about to look at Bucky and say as much, but Bucky is already turning around, facing away from Steve._

His phone dings and Steve immediately unlocks it. He feels guilty about the pang of disappointment that rushes through him when he sees Sam's name. It's not fair on Sam. Sam's on a job, though, and Steve wasn't expecting his message at all.

Steve has been waiting on a reply from Bucky all day. He'd tossed and turned during the few hours he'd spent trying to sleep, then he had gone out for a run. It did nothing to make him feel less jittery.

He's out in the park today, sketching anyone that inspires him. He's almost filled an entire page already.

**Sam: Smh.**

There's a photo attached with the message. Steve taps on the download button and stares at the blurry image as it downloads.

It's an image of a rock. Steve frowns. The remains of the grass surrounding the rock are charred. There's a couple of tiny black and yellow bits all over the rock.

Google tells him that Sam is shaking is head.

**Sam: Thor made us microwave popcorn without the microwave.**

**Sam: Bruce wants to try a watermelon next.**

Steve is dumbfounded for a moment, then he's clutching his side and laughing. He doesn't remember the last time he laughed this hard.

Some people give him odd looks as they walk by, but Steve doesn't care. He's enjoying the moment too much. He doesn't know when he'll laugh like this again.

_I can't stop laughing!_

_Who comes up with this shit?!_

He's still laughing when his phone dings again. He's expecting Sam, so he does a double take when he looks at the name. It sobers him right up.

_Can we meet?_

**Buck: why**

It takes him a while to figure out how he's going to reply to that.

_~~I came back for y~~ _

~~_I thought we could catch up and_ ~~

~~_I miss you so muc_ ~~

~~_I made a mistake. I wanted to make it up to you_ ~~

~~_I want in my lif_ ~~

_I wanted to apologise,_

He goes back to sketching after a few minutes of waiting. His lines are unsteady, his sketches look ugly. He gets up to leave, checks his phone while he's walking out of the park.

**Buck: what for?**

He's still typing, though, so Steve waits, watches Bucky stop and start typing for a long time.

**Buck: you don't need to apologize steve. you did what you had to do.**

His heart does a little swoop. Has Bucky forgiven Steve already? Is it going to be this easy to get Bucky back? Steve is going to do everything in his power to make it up to Bucky, even if Bucky has forgiven him, he'll make sure Bucky knows how important he is to Steve.

_I want to apologize anyway. I've missed you so bad, Buck._

_Can we meet? I want to see you in person._

He stands there for a long time waiting for Bucky to reply. He can't wait to meet Bucky. He's felt Bucky's absence every day since he left.

Sometimes, his imagination runs wild. He sees himself and Bucky picking out an apartment for the both of them. They'd have separate bedrooms, but they'd end up sharing the bed anyway. Steve would wake up early and make breakfast, take it to Bucky in bed.

He usually squashes these thoughts. But he doesn’t see much reason to do that today.

There's a nervous knot in his stomach by the time he reaches home. There's no reply yet. He thinks he read Bucky's text wrong. He doesn't know what to make of this.

He's in his bed, staring at the ceiling and waiting for food to arrive when he gets another message.

**Buck: i don't know if that's a good idea**

He did read this wrong. His heart sinks. Bile rises in his throat. How the fuck did he jump to the conclusion that everything was fine? He was thinking about buying a fucking apartment together. He feels stupid.

He knows he should reply, but by the time he's gathered enough courage to start typing, his food has arrived.

He gets a call from Sam halfway through his dinner.

They talk for a long time, about Sam's mission, about Steve's apartment hunt. Sam tells him the story of the thunder popcorn in great detail. They both end up laughing by the end of the story.

After, he showers, and gets into bed. It's late.

He pulls up Bucky's chat again. The urgency has faded a little bit. There's an ache inside him now, an unrelenting pang of regret and guilt, but he's much more stable now. He's not likely to beg Bucky to give him something that Bucky doesn't want to give.

_I understand. I'm not going to force you into anything._

_But I want you to know that I'm not leaving. I'm here for good. I’m not leaving unless you tell me to leave._

It’s a few hours until Bucky replies.

**Buck: thank you for understanding**

_____

There’s a new post on Bucky’s instagram.

It’s an image of Bucky taken from a good distance. He’s sitting in a field. The cloudy sky colours the world with a wash of grey. The storm clouds part just enough to let a beam of sunlight pass through. The beam hits Bucky directly. He’s glowing. He looks beautiful.

The caption reads: “that’s right! @mrgodofthunder himself manipulated the weather to get me a cool shot. #friendshipgoals

He laughs. It’s only been a few minutes but there’s about a thousand comments.

@samthewilson: why did /I/ never think of that?!

@realjamesbarnes: @samthewilson i’ve a patent for it now sorry

@spiderboy: @mrgodofthunder please be my friend

@realjamesbarnes: @spiderboy find ur own god this one is mine

There’s a bunch of comments below Bucky’s reply to Peter. Most of them squealing, or writing #relationshipgoals and #thuckyisreal. Steve closes the app. He can’t breathe.

_“There’s loads of people who think we should be together,” Bucky says. Steve’s hand stills in Bucky’s hair. He peels his eyes away from his phone to Bucky’s face. Bucky looks up at him. His face_ _is red_ _, but he doesn’t hide it._

_“Hm?” Steve asks after a moment of silence._

_Bucky shoves his phone in Steve’s face._

_“People on twitter think we love each other,” His voice is rough. He’s not meeting Steve’s eyes. Steve look at Bucky’s phone._

_i wouldn't go against 117 countries to save Chad from gym that's for sure. you don't do that unless you LOVE that person #relationshipgoals #stuckyiscanon_

_“Well, I do love you,” Steve whispers, soft. Bucky’s eyes snap up to his. For a fraction of a second, there’s a flicker of something on Bucky’s face. And then it’s gone. Steve can see him put up walls in real time. He doesn’t know what he did wrong._

_“I know,” Bucky says and goes back to his phone. “I love you too.”_

_____

“We need to stop meeting like this,” Sam says as he drops down in the seat in front of him. Steve pauses for a moment before taking another sip of his green tea latte.

“Magic?” Steve asks.

Sam smiles.

_____

**Buck: sam told me you’re getting back into painting.**

Steve almost drops his phone. It’s been four days.

_Yeah. I’m a bit rusty but getting there._

There isn’t a reply for two hours. Steve wonders if this is how Bucky is with everyone. Back when Bucky was in Wakanda, Steve used to get a reply almost instantaneously.

**Buck: cool**

_____

“I’ll be out of your hair in no time,” Steve says as he kicks the door shut behind him. He’s carrying his easel in one arm and a duffle bag in another. He had been so sure that he was going to have an apartment by now. He’s nowhere near close. Every place he looks at feels like it’s lacking something. He doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life in any of the place he’s seen.

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Sam says. He opens the door to his guest bedroom. Steve walks in, puts everything on the floor, and turns to Sam.

“Thanks, Sam. You don’t know how much this means to me.” He’d tried to extend his stay at the airbnb, but it was already booked. He’d considered finding another place, but Sam had insisted. And Steve wasn’t too proud to admit that he was getting lonely. He’d accepted Sam’s offer despite the discomfort.

“It’s nice having someone around,” Sam says after a moment. “I’m glad you’re here.”

_____

Time doesn’t feel as punishing as it used to back when Steve was living alone. He’s only been living with Sam for a week, but he doesn’t feel like his soul is devouring itself. He doesn’t feel the giant chasm of emptiness inside him as often. It’s there. Loneliness is a persistent monster. It never quite leaves you no matter what you’re doing, but Steve realizes that sometimes it’s easier to forget about the emptiness inside you if you have company.

It’s easier with Sam around. Sam rarely eats takeout, and that forces Steve to start cooking more often. Sam’s reasoning is simple. He can’t afford to eat unhealthy food if he wants to stay in top shape.

“Not all of our bodies were baked in an oven,” is what he says when Steve tells him once to loosen up. Steve can respect that. The truth is, superficially, Steve is better than Sam. Steve is stronger than Sam, he heals faster, he can take a lot of pain. He can calculate angles in his mind in a split second to know how to throw his shield. But Sam is the hardest worker. He doesn’t have regenerative cells running through his body. He doesn’t have a metabolism fast enough to break down any food that he eats.

Sam takes good care of his teammates, too. He cares deeply about everyone. His moral compass never wavers, but he isn’t as rigid as Steve is either.

The truth is, Steve thinks, if Dr. Erskine were alive today, he’d pick Sam over Steve for the program any day. Steve wonders if Sam’s ever tried to lift the hammer. He wouldn’t be surprised if he can.

Steve’s not about to let Sam cook for both of them all the time. It establishes a sort of routine that was missing from his life when he was living alone with no one to answer to except himself.

Sam wakes him up every morning before he goes running. Steve is lazy for the first couple of days, but then he gets his ass out of bed and goes running with Sam.

Things are getting much easier with him. Sam’s never held it against him. He’s never been unkind, but the distance between them had been vast. Sometimes, Steve forgets that he left without a word, forgets the guilt that’s clawing at him at all times. It’s getting better.

Bucky sends choppy messages now and then. He asks questions, and then ends the conversations abruptly when Steve answers. It’s like he’s trying, but changes his mind as soon as he gets talking to Steve. Steve doesn’t know how to react to that, how to make the conversations last longer. Bucky never answers any of Steve’s questions.

A week after he moves in with Sam, he’s gone all day to view apartments. He’d hated both the apartments he’d viewed. One of them was too big, and the other had absolutely no direct sunlight entering the place. He doesn’t know what he’s missing. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t like anything he sees. He just doesn’t want to commit to any of the places he’s seen, even though he’s lost count of how many places he’s seen.

It’s not that he doesn’t _want_ an apartment. He can’t wait to get a place to call his own, have an entire room dedicated to his growing pile of art supplies. He has a perfect vision for what his place would look like _after_ he’s bought it, and none of the places he’s seen are ever good enough.

Sam doesn’t seem to mind him being there, though. He even says it’s nice having him around. Steve is starting to believe him.

He lets himself in just after 8. He’s already had dinner, and had texted Sam that he’ll be late. The light is off in the living room, but Steve can hear noises. Sam’s probably watching TV.

“I feel like I’m never going to find a goo--” he stops in his tracks as he reaches the living room.

Sam’s sitting on one end of the couch. There’s a large bowl in front of him filled with popcorn. Someone is lying down on the couch with their legs in Sam’s lap. He can’t see the person’s face, but he _knows._

And then Bucky is twisting around to look at Steve. Steve’s breath catches. He’s frozen. It seems Bucky isn’t better off, because he stares at Steve for a moment, and then he’s getting up from his sleeping position and sitting on the couch.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve manages to finally get out.

“Hey,” Bucky says, and doesn’t say anything else. Steve can’t read him. His face is as blank as it can get.

“Steve, come join us! We’re watching a movie,” Sam says finally, too enthusiastic. Steve feels bad for how he’s making the situation awkward. He considers declining and scurrying into his room, but he hasn’t seen Bucky since that disastrous day a few weeks ago, and he doesn’t want to give off the idea that he doesn’t want to be rude. He takes a seat. Bucky’s looking ahead now, at the TV, and Steve sees that there’s some animated movie on.

Steve tries to focus on the movie, but he can’t. His skin feels electrified, there’s a knot in his stomach and he can’t stop shaking his leg. His eyes wander over to Bucky every few seconds. Bucky’s hair is slightly longer than it was last time, curling a little bit around the nape of his neck. He looks ethereal as the light from the screen plays on his face. His jaw looks exceptionally sharp in this angle. He’s still clean shaven, but he’s got a five-o’clock shadow going on.

“Can you not stare,” Bucky says without taking his eyes off the TV. Steve startles. He didn’t realize how long he was staring.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looks back at the TV.

They sit there until Sam makes a joke about something in the movie and Bucky laughs. Steve wasn’t paying enough attention to understand.

Steve thinks about getting up and going into his room, but he doesn’t want to draw attention, so he sits there for another half an hour until the movie is over. Bucky yawns and stretches. His t-shirt rides up, exposing a small part of his stomach. He’s so much slimmer than he used to be.

Bucky gets off the couch and grabs the now empty bowl of popcorn.

“Leave it, I’ll clean up,” Sam says, and Bucky drops it like a hot potato, smiles cheekily at Sam. Sam rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “You lazy asshole.”

Bucky’s about to say something back when Sam’s face changes. “Oh, wait!” Sam says. “I got you something from Japan,” he says and goes inside to look for it.

The both of them stand awkwardly for a few moments. Steve wants to say something, but he doesn’t know how it’s going to be received. He doesn’t want to spoil the mood. He should have gone into his room while the movie was going on.

“You look better,” Bucky says finally. Steve blinks.

“Wha--”

“Last time I saw you, you looked like shit,” Bucky explains. Steve nods.

“You look good, too.”

Bucky shoots him a smile in response. It doesn't reach his eyes, but it's more than anything else he's allowed Steve.

It's not that Bucky is trying to be rude or that he's acting like he's angry. It's that neither of them know what to say. Steve knows that there's probably some anger there in Bucky, even though he told him that there's no need to apologize. But that's not what's restricting their conversations.

It's just that neither of them know what to say to each other. Steve aches. There was a time when they would spend days barely saying anything to each other, comfortable in either other's presence with no need for unnecessary conversation. Now is a completely different story. Now the silence feels oppressive, suffocating. It eats at Steve. He's about to say something else, try to make at least some small talk.

He'd been worried when he entered the house that Bucky would take one look at him and leave, but he's more than grateful that he stayed. It at least is proof that Bucky can tolerate him long enough to watch half a movie in his presence.

“Here you go,” Sam says as he enters the living room. Sam’s holding a small stuffed toy in the shape of a fish. There’s a couple of cats drawn on it with presumably Japanese lettering in the middle. “It’s catnip.”

Bucky lights up.

“Thanks!” Bucky says, grinning.

Sam’s smiling too, and it takes a moment until it registers. The instagram photo. Right. Bucky has a cat.

Back before the War, Bucky used to bring sick strays into their home. He used to feed them and nurse them back to health, used to go hungry if he couldn’t afford to feed both himself and the animal. Once they were fine, he used to release them again. Steve remembers how Bucky cried every time one of the strays actually died while under his care.

There's a new post on instagram only a couple of hours later. It's a video of the tiny black cat with the toy that Sam gave. She's absolutely beside herself, jumping around and pouncing on the little fish. When Steve unmutes the video, he's greeted with the sound of Bucky laughing.

The video is still playing in his mind when he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a couple of things i wanted to set up with this chapter, and that is why it was even more difficult to write. I didn't really know how to go about it. i don't hate the chapter but im certainly not in love with it.
> 
> things with steve and bucky will start picking up from the next chapter onwards. i'm thinking of having bucky invite steve somewhere ~ 
> 
> PS: the popcorn thing is inspired by a post i saw on tumblr
> 
>  **ONE MORE THING** What do you guys think should be Bucky's kitten's name?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry for such a large delay. I've been super busy and exhausted. School started and I'm just now settling into the new schedule. I hope you guys like this chapter.

Whatever is going on inside Sam’s apartment is loud enough that he can hear him from outside the locked front door. There a thump and sounds of running. Sam is swearing. Steve panics and quickly unlocks the door.

There's no one in the hallway leading into the living room, and he can't see anyone else from this view. 

It happens so fast. A small black ball of fur comes running towards the door. It’s pure instinct that makes Steve reach down and catch the black thing before it can escape. Steve blinks at the soft kitten in his hand in surprise just as Sam comes barrelling down the hallway. He stops in his tracks when he sees Steve, and looks wildly at the front door which is still wide open. There’s a moment of panic in his eyes, but then he sees the kitten Steve’s holding and he relaxes.

"You caught her," he says, breathless.

Steve looks down at her. She's small enough to fit in one hand. Her eyes are closed shut, and she’s limp in his hand. There’s a moment of panic when Steve tries to figure out if he squeezed her too hard, but then the kitten moves, opens her eyes, and jumps from Steve’s outstretched hand to Sam’s shoulder. It’s a big leap for a kitten that small, and it almost falls, grabbing onto Sam’s t-shirt with sharp claws and no doubt scratching the shit out of Sam’s chest and she slides down. Sam grunts and helps her climb onto his shoulder.

“I left the window open,” Sam explains, no doubt reading the confusion on Steve’s face. “She tried to escape. Barely managed to keep her inside, but then she heard the door open.”

Steve’s about to ask what this is about when he remembers. Oh. Is this…?

“Is Bucky here?” Steve asks, he sounds so hopeful it’s pathetic. Sam sobers a little bit.

“Uh, no man. He’s gone to visit family. Asked me to take care of her for a couple of days.”

This is the second time someone’s told him that Bucky is visiting family. He doesn’t know what family this is. He knowe Becca is gone. Had tracked her down after he’d thawed out, only to get the address to a cemetery.

“What family?” he asks. He’s kept the questions about Bucky to a minimum, but he can’t help it this time.

“Niece. She’s sick,” Sam says. He turns around and heads for the living room. He doesn’t say more, and Steve doesn’t ask more questions. Sam isn’t being unkind, he’s just not forthcoming with information.

Steve locks the front door and follows Sam inside.

_____

“What’s her name?” Steve asks. Sam has covered his couch with sheets to protect the soft covers from being destroyed. Not that the kitten seems to care. She’s scratching furiously at the sheets, and Steve’s sure she’s gotten through to the couch covers at least a couple of times, even with her tiny claws. 

“Alpine,” Sam says. “We call her Al.”

“But she’s black.

“I know. He really liked the name.”

She’s an energetic mess. Sam had balled up a piece of paper and thrown it on the ground and she’d gone wild playing with it for at least ten minutes.

“He’s always loved animals,” Steve says. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Al, who’s still doing her best to destroy Sam’s furniture through the protective layers. He’s never been particularly good at dealing with emotions, and talking about Bucky--especially in this context--twists him up in all sorts of ways. “He was always so--gentle. And they fucking--”

They sit in silence for a few moments.

“They couldn’t change that about him,” Sam says quietly after a few moments. Steve looks at Sam, nods in acknowledgment.

There’s a light, almost non-existent pressure across his thigh and he looks down. Al is done with the couch, and is walking across Steve’s lap like he’s part of the furniture. She’s so tiny and light. Steve can barely feel her weight. 

She walks across his lap and onto Sam’s, walks around in circles a couple times before settling on one of his thighs and falls asleep.

_____

The forest is thick, filled with large trees. It’s difficult to navigate. Every step is deliberate. He has to check for snakes and other critters before he can move forward. But he has to get them out of this place. His team is right behind them. They’re talking about what they wanna do when they get out of this goddamn place.

Steve looks up at the sky. It’s starting to get dark. He’s fairly certain they’re going in the right direction, but his compass is broken. When he opens it the needles are moving around wildly as Peggy looks on. He can’t navigate. He hopes he’s going the right way.

Night falls sooner than he expected, and brings with it a thick layer of fog. They could barely see anything beyond the thick branches before, but now the world is covered in a thick layer of grey. 

He flails his hands around, but he can’t feel anything, can’t see anything. He can’t breathe. It reminds him of back before the serum. He calls out to his team, but no one answers. Fuck. They must have gotten lost. How is he going to find them now?

He’s walking with his arms outstretched, trying to feel something, anything, when he hears it.

“Steve?” the voice says, and Steve breathes in relief.

“Sam? Where are you? Can you hear me?”

But the voice just keeps repeating his name over and over again. Steve is flailing around, trying to locate the voice in the fog, he can’t find him. He can hear Sam, but he doesn’t know where he is.

“Steve,” he jolts awake, and Sam is there. Steve can see again. It’s dark, but his night light is on, and he can see and there is no fog. Fuck. Okay. Just a dream, then.

“Steve,” Sam says again, his expression is pained, and he’s tugging at Steve’s hand. Steve looks down. He’s clutching at Sam’s forearm. Hard. It must hurt. He lets go quickly.

“Sorry,” he says. He’s about to ask why he’s in uniform, but Sam starts speaking again.

“Look, I have to go,” he says. “I don’t know how long. A couple days. I need you to take care of her.”

Steve is confused for a moment, but then he sees the kitten in Sam’s other hand. Steve panics. He doesn’t know how to care for a cat, let alone a small one, but then Sam points to a paper on Steve’s bedside table.

“I’ve written down everything you need to know. If you have any questions, just call Bucky,” he says. “I have to go. There’s a situation in Asia.”

Steve’s still blinking the sleep out of his eyes when Sam places the kitten in Steve’s lap and jumps out of the window. A moment later, the sound of his wings, and Steve watches as he flies away. 

Steve looks down at Alpine, who’s sleepy, but starting to wake up. He looks at the small piece of paper on the desk that can’t possibly contain everything he needs to know to make sure he delivers a healthy cat back to Bucky.

He’s fucked.

_____

“Your cat hates me,” Steve says into the phone. He’s had Alpine for 8 hours, and he’s panicking.

Bucky snorts. And it’s almost like there’s no distance between them. “What did you do?” The words are accusatory, but the tone is not. It’s almost fond. But Steve is sure the fondness is not directed at him. 

“She’s all cuddly with Sam, but she’s keeping her distance when it comes to me.” He sounds childish, but he doesn’t care. He’s scared that he’s doing something wrong, hurting her somehow. There’s no other reason why she would act like this.

“Is she eating properly? Playing? Is she doing everything else properly?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you’re doing fine. She’ll warm up to you soon enough. She takes a while to trust strangers.” The words are comforting, even through the ice in Bucky's voice.

“I’m not a stranger. She’s known me for three days now.”

“You know what I mean.”

_____

She’s sleeping in the middle of the couch, and Steve sits on one side of her. She’d eaten half an hour ago and she’s been sleeping ever since.

With Sam gone, she seems less energetic, but Steve can’t be sure. Maybe she just misses Bucky or Sam. Maybe she hates that she’s been left alone with some dull stranger. He can’t blame her. He’d hate it too if he was left alone with himself.

He gently pets her on her small head with a finger, and she stands up. Steve freezes, waits for her to leave, but she doesn’t. She just goes around in circles a couple of times, and goes back to sleep.

Steve smiles.

_____

_I think she's starting to like me._

**Buck: she likes anyone who gives her food**

_No, I think it's my charming personality._

_Thank you for trusting me with her, Buck._

**Buck: I didn't have much of a choice.**

_____

He hears the front door unlock, and jolts awake. It’s dark outside, bright light shining through a couple of windows in the buildings outside the window. Al is still sleeping beside him. The lights from the TV screen dance off of her fur. He must have fallen asleep. The TV is on mute. Steve reaches for the remote and switches it off. 

It takes him a moment to realize why he woke up. Sam is talking to someone, and for a brief moment, he thinks it’s Bucky. The front door closes. Steve turns his head to look at the hallway leading into the living room.

“Thank you, Sam,” Thor says.

Al meows loudly jumps off the couch. She staggers a little bit, but then she’s running toward Thor, still meowing. Half a second ago, she was fast asleep beside Steve.

The lights come on just as Thor laughs and bends down to pick her up. Her meowing stops. She’s rubbing her head against Thor’s massive hands as he looks at her with fond eyes.

It took Steve all day to get her to sleep beside him. Just the sound of Thor’s voice sent her running toward him. Steve tries not to be jealous. He really does. Thor’s a good man, but Steve is only human.

She's grown on him over the past few days, had felt special when she chose to sleep beside him.

Steve looks at Sam, who looks like he could fall asleep at any moment. He pats Steve on the back, mumbling "g'night" on his way in.

Steve turns his attention back to Thor, who's talking to Al. He.. it's like he's having a conversation with her.

"Can you talk to her?" Steve asks. He wouldn't be surprised. Thor's friends include a raccoon and a tree. 

"Steve!" Thor booms in reply, finally looks up at him. Al meows, equally loud. She jumps from his hands onto his shoulder as he quickly closes the distance between them and pulls Steve in a tight hug. Steve feels guilty about his momentary jealousy. As if to remind him of it, Al scratches at his scalp from her perch on Thor's shoulder. Steve jumps back. Thor is smiling at him.

Thor may be the god of thunder, but he's sunshine personified. 

"You were missed, my friend," he says, pats him on the back hard enough that Steve almost stumbles. There's no sarcasm, no toxicity in Thor's words. He means it. Steve feels tears form in his eyes. He clears his throat and looks away. Tries to swallow the lump in his throat.

When he speaks again, his voice is only slightly shaky. "It's good to see you," he says. And it is. He didn't realize how much he'd missed him. Missed everyone. He's taken aback by how good it feels to see Thor again.

When he finally goes to sleep in the morning, he's feeling warm all over.

_____

_So what's the deal with Alpine and Thor?_

**Buck: what**

_She's mad about him._

**Buck: yeah so?**

_~~She's not like that with anyo~~ _

_~~I'm just~~ _

_Nevermind._

_____

A sharp sting on his face wakes him up. He's slow to open his eyes, blinking away the sleep. He looks around, dazed and disoriented until he realizes where he is, and why the surroundings don't look familiar.

He'd fallen asleep on Sam's couch after breakfast, and from the light outside, he'd been asleep for longer than he'd anticipated. The place where it had stung burns slightly and he looks around to find Al sitting in front of his face. He smiles at her, and avoids an attack by picking her up placing her farther away from his face.

His skin prickles and Steve whips his head to the side. His breath catches.

Bucky is sprawled across the sofa chair with his head propped up on one hand. He looks tired. He's looking between Al and Steve, lips pursed, eyebrows drawn together.

"Hey, Buck," Steve says, his voice hoarse from disuse. He grabs Al and sits up, places her on his lap. She digs her nails into his thigh through the soft fabric of his pajama pants as she tries to get off of the couch and onto the ground. He flinches. "How--how long have you been here?"

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Bucky says.

"Buck, what--" 

"We're never going to be the same again," Bucky interrupts. Steve's heart sinks. "You left me for--you can't. Look, you're not my best friend anymore. You're not my anything anymore."

Steve looks down, wills away the tears in his eyes. He's nodding, trying to figure out what to say next when Bucky continues.

"But I used to love you, and for old times' sake, I'm willing to give this a try."

 _Used to love him_.

"Okay," Steve says. "I'll--I'm happy with whatever you want to give. I won't--I won't ask for more." 

Bucky watches him for a moment, his face unreadable, and then he nods, slowly. He relaxes, leans back. When he speaks again, some of the ice in his voice has melted.

"Thank you," he says, unexpected. "For taking care of her."

Bucky's quick shifts between moods is giving Steve a whiplash.

Al has made her way onto Bucky's lap, and his looking up expectantly at Bucky. He brings his hand around and pets her. She looks pleased.

"I think she kinda likes me now," Steve says.

Bucky is quiet for another long moment before he speaks again. "I'm going to take her on a walk tomorrow morning. You can join us if you want. There's a park near my apartment."

The rush of emotions is overwhelming, and Steve can't help but grin.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there," he says, enthusiastic. It's been weeks since that day in front of Bucky's apartment building, days since that awkward movie night. Bucky just invited him. He's willing to spend time with Steve. No, he actively wants to spend time with him. 

The fog in his brain lifts for a minute. For the first time in months, he's overwhelmed by a rush of positive emotions. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://www.thetoastedtea.tumblr.com)


End file.
